The Conspiracy
by Call me Mel
Summary: Lindhall Reed and Etania, his assistant, have found evidence that could save Tortall.
1. The Plot

Etania was checking on some iguanas from the Copper Isles when Lindhall came in, looking agitated.

"Tough day?" Etania asked, looking up from her work.

"In a word, yes." He sighed. Etania got him a chair, which he gratefully collapsed into. Etania pulled up a seat for herself, resting her elbows on her knees and her head on her hands. She waited for the explanation she knew would come.

"Emperor Ozorne was not there at the palace, and those I inquired about the matter were most cold and a hindrance." he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"So... you think he's up to something..." Etania concluded.

"Indeed.  What's more is that Numair tells me his Duke Roger has also gone missing."

Etania smiled at the mention of Numair. He was Lindhall's most favorite pupil, and had only left earlier this year… fleeing from Ozorne. Though she knew she could never live up to the mage's position in Lindhall's memory, it was a challenge, and she *loved* challenges. At any rate, she admired the apt mage, as she did Duke Roger. The mention of Roger's name, however, slightly caused her to cringe. It made her think of her sister, Delia- a most unpleasant and foppish person in her opinion.  

"So, you think they are conspiring together?" Etania inquired.

Lindhall smiled, still not opening his eyes. "Youngling, you are far too presumptuous for your own good."

Etania grinned, but Lindhall luckily was unable to see, as he still had his eyes closed. She persisted.  "But you DO think Ozorne is-"

"Yes." Lindhall said, waving his hand in agitation. Etania smiled, victorious.

"Indeed." she said, using her Master's phraseology. She gave a smile that showed off perfectly lined white teeth. "Well, what business would Ozorne have with a Tortallan?"

"I could only imagine..." he wandered from thought to thought. "Duke Roger is next in line to the throne, beyond Jonathan. After the Sweating Sickness-"

"Surely you don't think HE caused that-" Etania tried to intrude, but again, a wave of Lindhall's hand silenced her.

"After the Sweating Sickness, which could only be caused by a most powerful mage- I only know of three in our country: Master Numair (who, might I add, was not even there at the time), Thom of Trebond (who was far too young), and Duke Roger."

"Preposterous. Did it ever occur to you that it could be a *natural* occurrence?" Etania said, defensive of a mage she admired.

"Possibly, but interesting timing, was it not? With Jonathan being hit last? After all help had dwindled down?"

"How do you know- *Numair* again?"

"No, he was still here at the time, I already said that. You need to listen more carefully, youngling. I had my... sources," he said, tiptoeing around the subject. "Mages are most co-operative with one another, for the most part," he provided to Etania's probing curiosity.

He finally opened his eyes and got up from his seat.

"Where are you going? You're far too tired to-" 

"Business..." Lindhall muttered. He exited the door, ordering the locking spell that it was not to allow anyone to enter, and only let Etania out. "I will see you tomorrow," he said, bidding her goodbye wearily.

It only occurred to Etania once he left that only an immense drain of his Gift could have left her Master so exhausted. Etania quickly finished with her chores about the office, muttering things like, "Impossible" and "Insufferable" under her breath. She didn't mean these words, but her strong curiosity, which remained unquenched irritated her unto the point of frustration with her beloved Master.


	2. The Next Day

The next day, when Etania opened the door to Lindhall's study, she was startled to see that Lindhall was already there.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed in surprise, "You like to sleep in!"

"Not today." Lindhall said, somewhat cheerily. "Today, we travel."

"Travel? What in the name of the gods are you talking about?" she said, now  
noticing that he had two traveling trunks by his side. She looked at him. "Where?!"

"I hope you don't mind I took the liberty of asking Patha to pack your things for you…"

"Fine, fine," Etania said, waving her hand irritably. She was not going to be distracted.  
"Where are we going? And why?"

"All in good time." Lindhall said, striding to the door, he opened it. "After you."

Etania rolled her eyes and let out a grunt of anger as she exited the room. She would have been all the more angry if she had known Lindhall stayed behind a bit, laughing at her melodrama.

"Okay, _now _will you tell me?" Etania said, once aboard the ship. She looked at the water below, seeing if she could spot any creatures, or mermaids, even.

"Yes." Etania hadn't expected this, so she jerked her head up, rapt with attention. 

"We are going to the Copper Isles."

"Okay..." the girl said. "Why?" she added, not hiding the agitation in her voice. 

"Why, for the iguanas, of course," Lindhall said lightly, a smile on his face implying it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Collecting rare specimen from the environment..." he didn't show signs of continuing.

"_Iguanas?_"  Etania asked, disgusted.

"Don't tell me you don't love the creatures.  Sure they make a mess and you're the one cleaning the cages, but really, that's no reason to-"

"Iguanas, Lindhall!" Etania snapped.  "Iguanas are not the reason we are here!  They are not the reason why you've been exhausted the past week from spying.  The _real_ reason is…?"

"Duke Roger is 'vacationing' there, I have been told.  And where Duke Roger is-"

"So is Ozorne," Etania completed with a smug smile, finishing her master's sentence. She sighed and leaned back on the rail, sniffing the rich, salty air. "So... how will this 'trip'  
last?"

"As long as it takes," Lindhall shrugged.

"Merlords take you," Etania muttered under her breath.


	3. The Escape

"Cadish," Argetham, a fellow soldier at Carthak's prison, barked. "Your watch tonight."  
Cadish, a young lieutenant, nodded.   He was taller than Argetham, and more muscular.  "When are they going to have negotiations?" he asked, referring to the prisoner Lindhall Reed, now a political prisoner.  
One of the professors at their own university. However, being a Tortallan by birth, he was a potential threat. Particularly since he was in close contact with the king and recently fled Arram Draper.  
However, Cadish saw nothing dangerous in the man. He was kindly, and the two would oftenmmake small-talk. Cadish was not very fond of the Gift (unlimited power worried and disturbed him), but he was beginning to enjoy his talks with Lindhall.  
"Negotiations?" Argetham laughed. "As far as I've heard, there won't be any negotiations... unless it's with the executioner."  
  
"What's the news?" Lindhall asked, seeing Cadish walk down the hall and take a seat on a wooden stool slightly outside the mage's cell.  
"I haven't heard much. Not many people on guard, today," Cadish answered in a round-about manner, not wishing to tell Lindhall that his execution date had been set.  
"Why's that?"  
Cadish knew very well that all the soldiers that could be spared were preparing and training for imminent war with Tortall, but Cadish also knew very well that such information was confidential.  
"Not sure. Probably just to give a rest. We go on rotation."  
"Oh." It was clear that Lindhall wasn't pleased with this answer. "Forgive me for saying this, but-" Cadish heard a foreign word - a word of power. He didn't even have time to react before he was slammed unconscious against the wall.  
  
When Cadish awoke, he was bleeding at the lip and the back of the head where he had hit the enforcement wall. Argetham was looking at him with amusement. "Perhaps you will get your negotiations for the  
day after all," he said, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. "The Guard Master wants to talk to you." The man was seemingly tickled pink by something. He leaned into the young man, helping him up. "My advice," he whispered in his ear. "Is to pack your things _before_ you talk to him... that way you can escape as quickly as possible... Before we're sent to kill you."  
Cadish narrowed his eyes and walked away, leaving Argetham alone in the corridor.

The young, lanky thief lay on the floor of his cell, his hat tipped over his face.  Shemlon had once been the Arch Rogue of this city, the top dog.  He had been caught and now, one year later, Shem was quite sure that he had been entirely replaced, if not forgotten.

Shemlon had noticed the guards in his hall run off. "Jailbreak?" he muttered to himself, amused and interested. "I would hate to be that prisoner..." he remembered the other times he had managed to get as far as escaping the confines of his cell with his picks... only to be thrown brutally back in. He had vowed each time never to try it again... and be released in natural time.  
And yet now, the opportunity seemed too good. The guards were distracted, and certainly no one would notice a skinny thief disappear in the commotion. Pulling out his picks, which had never been confiscated, he set to work. Three minutes later, he was strolling the halls idly, with his hands in his pockets.  
"Eerie," he said to himself, noting the silence. Apparently the guards were all in the courtyard. He pried a barred window open and slipped out relatively easily.  
As soon as he pulled out of the opening, he stopped dead. Cadish, the head guard of the watch was slumped against the wall there, with packed bags, looking quite glum. He gave a morose sigh, and Shemlon was certain that he hadn't been noticed.  

Closing the barred window quietly, Shemlon strolled up to him with an air that would convince anyone that he owned the very wall Cadish was leaning against.  
"So," he said, casually. "What brings you here?" He was interested to know why Cadish, one so high in rank, would be leaving the fortress.  
"Nothing anymore. I'm leaving in a bit," Cadish said with a sigh.  
"Leaving? Say... aren't you a head dog there?" he said, pointing to the prison as though he didn't already know.  
"Yes... I _was_. But, no matter. I ought to be lucky I am not *in*  
there as a prisoner."  
"What'd'y'do?" Shem asked, hiding his smile, appearing to be the "crying shoulder".  
"My charge escaped... and not just _any_ charge, Lindhall Reed."  
'He got out! Who'd have thought it!' he thought with a satisfied grin. "That's simply terrible." Shemlon said, with a smile.  
Cadish didn't notice the smile, but sighed again.  
"Hey, you're a tough kid. Smart, too... to be head at a place like that. No doubt you can find a place to work."  
"Not anywhere here. They'll have heard the news. No one wants an irresponsible failure."  
Shem thought for a minute. He could use a ticket out of this place. This man seemed just the one. "What about Tortall?"  
"Tortall?"  
"Yeah. Nice place. I hear they've got a knack for picking up oddballs like yourself. After all, their champion's a woman."  
Cadish snorted. "That doesn't sound like the type of place I'd consider."  
"Beggars can't be choosers. Believe me," Shem said sincerely. "Besides, there's a ship over there with its coat of arms. It'd probably take to sophisticated men such as ourselves back to its port."  
Another sigh from Cadish. "I don't have any money."  
Shemlon sighed as well. So much for a ticket. However, this boy had potential, he thought to himself. Perhaps he could earn a follower in the process of establishing his own thieves' court. "Stowaways, then," he said, giving a toothy grin.  
Cadish didn't seem taken with the idea. He shook his head in protest. "I might not have money, but that doesn't make me a thief."  
"Pity," Shemlon muttered. "Thieving can be a downright respectable occupation, you know..."  
"If I still had my job, I could clap you in irons."  
"If you still had your job, I wouldn't be talking to you... or offering you an escape."  
Cadish thought for a moment. He did have a point.  
"Very well," he said, begrudgingly. "But as soon as we get to Tortall, and as soon as I get reinstated in a rank of honour, you'll have the justice system to account to."  
Shemlon gave a toothy grin. "IF we get to Tortall in one piece, and IF you make it there without me slitting your throat, you won't dream of treachery."  
Cadish narrowed his eyes, though not in a position to question the rogue. "Very well. Your secret is safe with me... but only because I am a man of honour."  
Shem snorted. "Honour is highly overrated. We'll see how much honour you have when begging to support yourself and keep food in your belly," he said morosely. "It's times like that that you consider that maybe thievery might be a bit more reasonable than abiding by the law and paying for it with your life."  
Cadish blinked, not knowing what to say. He had never had those problems, and it had always been easy to ignore those who had and simply label them as outlaws.  
"Fine." He said, throwing his hands up in retreat. "We'll get on the ship. Head to Tortall. Never see each other again. What do I care," he said, picking up his bags.  
Shemlon shrugged. "It's your choice. After all, I was only extending my hand of good-will to you."  
"Only after you saw I didn't have money."  
"True, but beggars can't be choosers."  
"No... only thieves can."  
"Ex-ac-et-all-y," Shemlon said comically, leading the way to the ship.  
He noticed and open porthole. "My lord, your baggage, please," he said, motioning to Cadish's bags. Cadish looked at him incredulously.  
"I'm not going to _pilfer _ them, Mithros' sake... I'm going to STOW them!" Shemlon said, sensing Cadish' hesitation. He handed them over and Shemlon stuffed them through, then squeezed himself in.  
Cadish looked around akwardly. This was his last chance. He could try to earn an honest living... get away from this thief... and... He noticed the party of prisoners moving towards the ship. So this was _their_ ship...  
He helplessly realised that he was only moments away from being spotted and reported.  
Shemlon's hand reached out of the porthole. Cadish took it and found himself jerked through the hole and pulled into a smelly room full of barrels and crates of goods.  
Shemlon pulled himself on top of a pile of crates and sat about it luxuriously. "Welcome, milord, to your quarters. Enjoy the trip, compliments of Shemlon the Slick."


	4. On Board

The escape plan had taken Etania nearly a month to pull together. Upon hearing of her master's imprisonment, she had contacted Arram - now Numair - in Tortall. The young mage was not yet prominent in court, still in the shadow of Thom of Trebond, and it took a good deal of persuading and pulling of strings to get a small force to come to Lindhall's aid.  
Etania awaited anxiously on board the ship that would take them to Tortall. She paced, hearing the faint struggle in the prisons. She should have been allowed to go with them. Only men. She, being both young, and a woman, had no chance to help, even though she was quite sure she was much more qualified in magic than several of the men.  
She saw Lindhall and the others advance, under a cover from the Gift. Lindhall had taught her to identify such spells when in action.  
  
Once on board the ship, Lindhall allowed the cover to dissipate, and Etania embraced her master. She pulled away, embarrassed from the expression of emotion, and noticing that Lindhall was unsteady on his feet. "Glad you're back," she said softly.  
"Me, too, youngling," he said, trousling her hair.  
Seeing Lindhall very pale and worn, Etania helped him to sit on several pillows on deck, where he leaned against the railing.  
Despite all this, a smile remained on his face.  
"Are you alright? Do you need any food? Water?" The apprentice looked anxiously at him.  
"Water would be nice. Don't look at me like that, Etania. They treated me _fine, _for all they planned to kill me. A nice young man in the prisons made sure I was cared for."  
Etania returned with some water, which Lindhall accepted gratefully.  
"How long until we reach Tortall," he asked, already growing sleepy from his great exertion.  
"Two weeks."  
  
quot;That _had _to be the most _miserable _experience of my life," Cadish said, sneaking out the same port hole and looking around the docks at the famous and mysterious land of Tortall. It looked boring. He  
liked boring.  
"We weren't caught, were we?" Shemlon said with a wicked grin, tumbling out of another opening.  
"No, we weren't only because of your precious Gift, but I'd rather we had been discovered. At least then we would have been decently fed."  
"Hard to eat without a head," Shemlon observed easily, now strolling the docks easily, hands shoved in his pockets.  "That's the punishment, of course, in our land for stowaways.  Beheadding."  
"I know," Cadish retorted irritably.  He continued to inspect the area with scrutiny, and felt his insides freeze. The crew and passengers were still on board. And here came someone to greet them!  
He looked to Shelmon in a panic. Shelmon gave a charming smile and, despite his ragged clothing, tipped his invisible hat to the young woman coming forward, muttered "G'day," and walked past. Cadish,  
too, gave a slight bow, and passed.  
"There," Shemlon said with a smile. "That wasn't so bad." He turned and watched the people on board the ship. "I'm anxious to see this infamous Lindhall Reed," he commented, trying to identify which of  
the Tortallan men on board it might be.  
"I'm not," Cadish said, instinctively rubbing the back of his head. "Can we go?"  
"_You_ can."  
"Go where? I don't know my way around!"  
Shemlon broke his gaze at the ship and turned to Cadish. "I don't, either! Just... go... do something. I don't know, whatever you stiffs do."  
Cadish looked offended, but stayed where he was.

Shemlon gave a flattered smile.  "I'm touched to the heart, Caddy!  I was under the impression that you never wanted to speak to me again.  Well, I'm glad time has bridged the gap between us," he said, clapping a hand on the guard's shoulder.

Cadish shrugged it off irritably.  "Nevermind.  I'll go find somewhere to stay."


End file.
